The Really True Santa Claus
by BoomerCat
Summary: A tale from the Tracy boys' childhood.


_Author's note: You gotta love a beta that stays up until midnight on Christmas Eve to help you get your story ready so you can post it for Christmas! Sam, you are the absolute best!!_

**The Really True Santa Claus**

"Hey, Scott? Open up."

Fourteen-year-old Scott Tracy sighed. Privacy was always in short supply around the Tracy family farm, but never more so than on a cold, rainy Saturday morning. He looked at the English composition homework on his computer screen and considered refusing to let his brother into his room.

"Scott? Can I come in?"

With another soft sigh, Scott scooted in his computer chair to the door and opened it up. "Virg, I told you, I want to get this report done so I can just relax over vacation."

"Yeah, I know, but the terrible two are driving me crazy. Can't I just come in and hide for a while?"

"You know all three'll be up here in two minutes."

"Yeah, but that'll be two minutes of blessed peace." Virgil pushed past his older brother and flopped dramatically on the bed. "Why couldn't the weather have stayed good for just one more day?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Knowing he'd never be able to work with his brother in the room, he scooted back to his computer and carefully saved his work. "Thanks for keeping them quiet for as long as you did."

"Quiet? There was no quiet, Scott. You'd have thought the world was ending. I wish Dad hadn't promised we'd go get the tree today. If he'd kept quiet, the brats wouldn't still be whining about it."

Scott pinned his eleven-year-old brother with a hard stare. Virgil tried to stare back but quickly started to squirm. Finally he sighed, and said a bit truculently, "You'd be calling them brats too if you had to listen to them all morning."

"You know I hate that word. They aren't brats, and they aren't terrible. They're just kids."

"Whiny, annoying kids." Nine-year-old John stood in the doorway, tacitly asking permission to come in.

Scott granted permission with a nod of his head. "Did you put in the DVD like I said?"

"Of course I did," Virgil said. "It would have worked if it was just Allie, but with Gordy jumping around there was no way Allie was gonna settle down."

"They'd behave if Dad would come out," John commented resentfully. When he realized the trip to get a Christmas tree would have to be postponed, Jeff Tracy, the boys' father, had retreated to his attic office, saying he had some work to get done.

Scott wasn't so sure that his youngest brothers would behave any different in their father's presence. Rainy days were always hard because they were all used to running around outside. It was even harder now, during the Christmas season, when excitement was running high anyway.

Yesterday was the last day of school for two weeks and at dinner last night, their father had said that today they would go into Dodge City to pick out a Christmas tree. The two youngest Tracys, six-year-old Gordon and five-year-old Alan had been especially excited. They were still young enough to believe in Santa Claus, and getting the tree made Christmas all that much more real.

Scott wasn't convinced even their stern, but loving father could make much headway against that much excitement in the two boys. Speaking of which… "Where are they, anyway?"

"Last I saw them, they were having a sword fight with Tinker Toys," John replied.

"Tsk. You shouldn't have let them do that, Johnny. One of them could get hurt," Scott said, then paused. "How come I can't hear them?"

Instantly suspicious, Scott got up and headed for the door. Anytime his little brothers were quiet, they were into something. Intent on catching them, Scott walked softly to the top of the stairs, Virgil and John following reluctantly behind. Scott cocked his head, holding up a hand. He could just make out whispering.

Signaling his brothers to stay where they were, Scott moved quietly down the staircase, automatically stepping over the three squeaky steps. Coming into the front hallway, his heart came up in his throat. The door to the hallway closet was open, and there, precariously balanced on books stacked high on a dining room chair were his two little brothers, reaching above their heads to a box on an upper shelf of the closet.

Leaping forward he cried out, "What are you doing!"

Caught, the two youngsters startled, and would have fallen had not Scott been there to catch them. The tall , rickety stack of books immediately collapsed in a crash.

Indignant, Gordon squirmed, complaining, "Aw, Scotty, put me down! We was just looking to see if that box up there had a Christmas present in it."

Setting both kids on their feet, Scott glanced up at the box on the top shelf in the hall closet. "What? What Christmas present? What are you talking about?"

Alan pointed. "That box up there. We wanna see if there's a Christmas present there."

Exasperated, Scott crossed his arms. "What makes you think there's a Christmas present there?"

"We don't."

"Yeah, we don't. But we wanna see to be sure."

Behind him, Virgil started humming a tune from an ancient vid called The Twilight Zone. Scott shot his brother a quelling look. Turning back to the miscreants, he crossed his arms. "Okay, start explaining."

Although Gordon was older, it was Alan who spoke. "Johnny says Santa isn't real. He says Gramma and Dad hide all the Christmas presents around the house then put them under the tree after we go to bed on Christmas Eve. So me and Gordy were checking to see if there were any presents in the closet, 'cause if there aren't any, then Johnny's just a dirty dog liar."

Scott looked over at the nine-year-old. "Is that true? Did you tell them Santa wasn't real?"

Far from intimidated, John stuck out his chin. "Yes. They're big enough to know the truth, Scott. There is no Santa Claus."

Scott took a breath to control his sudden ire. Johnny had always been a skeptic, but to ruin it for the little ones was just plain mean. He turned back to the youngsters. Both looked on the verge of tears. Neither of them were ready to give up on Santa, but they also wanted to be considered big kids. "Okay, so, let's think this through. Come on into the living room. Everybody grab a couple of those books. Virg, take the chair back to the table."

The boys all obeyed their big brother, and soon all sign of the misadventure was gone. Satisfied, Scott commanded, "Everybody on the couch."

When all four of his brothers had seated themselves, Scott nodded. "All right then, this meeting of the Tracy brothers is now in session. John, what makes you think Santa isn't real?"

In the spotlight, John frowned ferociously. "Because he just isn't. Only babies believe in Santa Claus."

Next to him, Virgil growled. "It just so happens that I believe in Santa Claus. You calling me a baby, short stuff?"

Scott raised a hand. "Let's approach this logically. John, who told you Santa Claus isn't real?"

John brightened immediately. Although only nine, he prided himself on his ability to use logic to figure things out. "Davy and Jake. We talked it over at school. See, to carry just the presents we get, Santa'd have to have a bigger sleigh than anyone in the world, and even if he did, he'd need more than eight little old reindeer to pull it. Remember last summer at the farm show? It took ten big old draft horses to pull that one wagon, and reindeer aren't anywhere near as big as a draft horse. And that wagon wasn't even big enough to carry enough presents for all the kids in Kansas, let alone the whole wide world. And besides that, how could he deliver all those presents in just one night? He'd have to travel faster than a rocket ship and still, he couldn't do it."

Scott noticed that Allie was starting to wring his hands together, a sure sign that he was worried. He interrupted John when he would have continued. "Okay, I grant that those are very good points, Johnny. But I have to tell you, you aren't seeing the whole picture."

"What do you mean?" John asked, and Scott finally understood. John hadn't intended to be mean to his little brothers. Scott could see the wary hope in the blond boy's eyes. Johnny was at that point where he really wanted to believe, but beset by logic, and the declarations of his friends, he was beginning to doubt.

Scott paused. All of his brothers were looking to him for the answers. He wanted to get it right. He knew perfectly well there was no round-bellied old man flying around in a sleigh on Christmas Eve. But he also knew that Santa was more than just a guy bringing presents. He was the spirit of good in the world.

Scott wanted to believe in good. He needed to believe in good. He needed to believe that even after his mom had passed away, good things could happen. He didn't want his brothers, especially Gordon and Alan, to have dark places in their lives. "There is more to Santa Claus than a big sleigh, Johnny. Santa Claus exists because there is magic in the world. It's that magic that lets him bring all those presents on time, not the sleigh, not the reindeer."

The hope in John's eyes seemed to fade a bit. "Magic," he harrumphed.

"Okay, fine, let's just forget about the magic. Let's look at it another way. Virg, who told you about Santa Claus?"

Virgil blinked. "Well, Dad did, of course."

"Of course. So, has Dad ever lied to you?"

Seeing where his brother was going, Virgil sat up a bit straighter and replied stoutly, "No, never!"

"Did Dad ever tell you he believed in Santa Claus?"

"Sure he did."

"How about you guys? Has Dad ever lied to you?"

Gordon and Alan both shook their heads solemnly. John wasn't quite so ready to give up his point, though. "Well, how about today? He promised to take us to get a Christmas tree, but he's up in his office instead."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Even I know the difference between telling a lie and making a mistake."

"Yeah," Virgil chimed in. "He didn't know it was going to rain, Johnny. That's not a lie."

"Okay, so we're agreed that Dad doesn't lie to us, and Dad believes in Santa Claus. So let's look at something else. Last year, Al, you and Gordy said you heard sleigh bells on the roof on Christmas Eve. Johnny, you said you did too. So, were you guys lying or were there sleigh bells?"

Alan practically shouted, "There were! There were sleigh bells! I heard them for real!"

Gordon sat nodding his head so hard that Scott wondered if it would fall off. John frowned. "I thought I did. But maybe… maybe it was Dad up on the roof or something."

"Nyuh-uh, Dad was in the kitchen with Grandma. Remember? He kept yelling for us to go to sleep." Virgil commented.

"Yeah! And what about the cookies and milk? Remember we put it out and in the morning the cookies were eated up, and the milk was gone?" Gordon added excitedly.

John shook his head. "Dad could have done that, or Grandma."

Scott nodded. "That's true, but remember a couple of Christmases ago, when Grandma accidentally gave all of the cookies to the church, and we had to put out that marzipan instead? Dad hates marzipan and so does Grandma, but it was still gone the next morning."

John thought for a moment, then smiled and played his trump card. "Okay, so, if Santa is real, then there aren't any presents hidden around the house, and there's nothing in the box in the hall closet."

Scott paused, stymied. He had no idea if there was something hidden up there, but if the looks on the faces staring at him were anything to go by, checking that box was the only thing that would put this argument to rest.

Luckily, Virgil saw an out. Snorting, he said, "That's no proof. I've got presents for everybody, and I had to hide them. Just because there's a present hidden, doesn't mean there's no Santa."

Scott nodded, grateful for Virgil's quick wits, but John just crossed his arms. "You just don't want to look, 'cause you know I'm right."

"Fine. We'll look." Scott could only sincerely hope that there was no present hidden in the box in question. He refused to back down when directly challenged. It was a matter of pride. He marched over to the closet and opened the door, his brothers crowding around him.

A step stool at the back of the closet was all the tall boy needed to reach up and snag the box in question. He pulled it out, and carefully lowered it as he stepped down. Virgil reached over and lifted the flaps so all could see the contents of the box.

Scott heaved a sigh of relief when the box proved to contain only boxes of candles and candle holders. "See? No presents here."

To his surprise and relief, Gordon and Alan both started to cheer. With a grin, Virgil joined in. John just stood looking slightly stunned. Scott turned and carefully put the box back where he had found it, then shepherded his brothers back to the couch.

"All right then, I'm calling a vote. How many here think Santa Claus is real?" Scott asked as he raised his own hand.

Gordon jumped up to raise his hand as high as he could, and Alan excitedly followed suit. Virgil smiled and stood up to raise his hand, and all four brothers turned to look at John, who sat frowning, indecision writ large on his face. The blond nine-year-old never had any problem bucking the consensus, but after a moment he tentatively raised his hand. "Okay, for now, I believe. But I'm still not positive."

"Yay!" Alan cheered, happy that the matter had been settled.

"Boys, saddle up. We're going on a road trip." Jeff Tracy strode into the room

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Gordon and Alan started jumping up and down. "We're gonna get a Christmas tree! We're gonna get a Christmas tree!"

Scott noticed Johnny's jaw had dropped in this apparent confirmation of Santa's existence. Still, he had his reservations. "Dad, I thought you said you wouldn't buy a tree in the rain because you can't really tell what it will be like when it's dry."

"Yes, I did say that, and it's true, but we aren't going to buy a tree in the rain. Virgil, go over to the barn and get that fifteen by twenty blue tarp, and grab some bungee cords while you're at it. John, we're going to need a couple of Christmas movies for the trip. And not Christmas Vacation. The boys are still too young for that. Gordon, water bottles. Alan, get that bag of carrot sticks out of the refrigerator. Scott, I want jackets, gloves and hats all around. Oh, and pit stops. Move it, boys, daylight's burning."

Having set all of his sons in motion, Jeff strode out the door to start up the family van. Still a bit confused, and definitely curious, Scott went to the hall closet and pulled on his letterman jacket and his favorite Royals' ball cap. When John appeared with an armful of DVDs, Scott grabbed them, and handed his brother his jacket and gloves. Looking at John's selections, Scott approved Home Alone and Home Alone 2, and a compilation of Christmas cartoons, and then sent John to put the other four movies back and go to the bathroom.

Before John returned, Gordon and Alan both came running. They both would have run out the door if Scott hadn't stopped them. Scott sternly sent them both to go to the bathroom. The two boys looked at each other in utter dismay, the thought of waiting even as long as it took to go potty seeming like an eternity to them. Scott stood firm, and they both ran like madmen to do his bidding.

Soon enough they were both back. They jittered in place as they struggled into their jackets and stocking hats. Gordon balked at his mittens, saying he couldn't carry the water bottles he was juggling, but Scott insisted, telling him he could carry Virgil's jacket and hat instead.

Alan and John were already out the door, and Gordon was trying desperately to squirm away as Scott insisted on zipping the jacket up. Finally, the hyper six-year-old escaped, jacket and hat in hand. Scott stuffed Virgil's gloves in his pocket then picked up the water bottles and headed out the door.

His father had pulled the van up close to the house, and was strapping in Alan and Gordon as he calmly responded to their rapid-fire questions. Virgil and John were already seated, and Scott went around to the front passenger door. His status as eldest insured his right to the shotgun seat, and he jealously guarded that right, not even deferring to his friend and confederate, Virgil.

With everyone strapped in and ready to go, Jeff got in and buckled up. Looking across at Scott, he raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Foot on the brake, check that car is in park. Turn ignition key to start, let it go as soon as the engine engages. Check side and rearview mirrors for alignment. Release the parking brake. Put car into drive. Check mirrors and surrounding area to insure all is clear. Ease foot off of brake, and move it to gas pedal. Slowly push down on gas pedal until car begins to move."

Jeff followed the instructions as Scott said them, and with a slight smile nodded. "Very good. When we get some clear weather, we'll give a try at letting you drive."

Scott grinned. He couldn't wait to try driving the family van. Even though he hadn't officially taken driver's ed, and he couldn't get a permit until he did, he knew his father's instruction was as good or better than any he'd get in school.

As they pulled out onto the main highway, Jeff raised his voice. "All right, boys, I've got good news and bad news. Good news first. I was on the internet, and I found us an indoor Christmas tree lot."

Jeff raised his voice over the instant cheers. "Bad news is, it's in Hutchinson. That means a long drive. Now, I want everybody to settle down. No fights, no arguments. If everyone is good, we'll stop for dinner at Kearney's Roadhouse."

The prospect of dinner at their favorite steak/barbecue/ice cream emporium, brought another round of cheers. Jeff continued, "John, what fine movie have you selected for our viewing pleasure?"

"Home Alone, Dad."

"Excellent choice. Scott, if you'd be so good." Scott nodded, and slid the DVD into the player. Four screens dropped down from the ceiling, one for each child, along with accompanying headphones. Soon, the four youngest boys had settled down to watch the movie, and Jeff and Scott were alone in the front seat of the van.

"All right, navigator, our destination is the state fairground in Hutchinson. They have an indoor lot set up in the mercantile building. See if you can get us as straight a shot as possible."

"Okay, Dad." Scott pulled out the state map from the map box. While the van was equipped with an up-to-date GPS system, Scott was learning to read maps, and whenever they went anywhere, Scott would plan it out on the map, then compare with the GPS to see how he did.

"Okay, we take 156 to Jetmore, then go south on the 283 until we hit the 50, then it's straight until we get to Hutchinson." Scott pawed through the plastic lunch box that served as a map holder. "Do we have a map of Hutchinson, Dad?"

"It's in there somewhere, son. But relax, we have a couple of hours before we need to worry about that." Jeff said easily. "So, were you able to get that homework done?"

"No, not really. I mean, I got all the research done, but I still have to write the paper."

"What kind of paper is it?"

"Well, it's for English Composition, but Ms. McAdams wants us to write a technical paper with footnotes and bibliography."

"Hmmm." Jeff's remark was non-committal. "So, any particular subject?"

"She said we could pick our own subject, as long as she approved it." Scott replied. "I decided to write one on that new hovercraft you developed."

Jeff glanced over at his eldest. "Yeah? You need any help?"

"No, I got everything I needed on the internet. Besides, Ms. McAdams made me promise I wouldn't get information from you. I think she thinks you'd write it for me or something."

"You wouldn't say that if you'd seen me in her class."

Scott snorted. "Yeah, right, Dad."

Jeff chuckled, his laughter blending into the giggles from the boys watching the movie. "No, I'm serious, son. The first quarter was all right, but then… I discovered girls."

"Are you kidding?"

"Nope. Mary Ellen Wysocki and Caitlyn Binder suddenly blossomed that semester, and I sat next to Mary Ellen and behind Caitlyn in that class. Couldn't concentrate to save my life."

Scott suddenly blushed. "I'm kind of having that problem in algebra. I keep noticing Jennifer McNamara."

"McNamara? Is she new?"

"No. She's a sophomore. She's almost sixteen, and I never really paid any attention to her before, because she's, you know, older than me. But all of the sudden, I keep thinking that she's awful pretty."

"So, have you talked to her?"

Scott shook his head. "Dad, she's a sophomore. She doesn't even notice freshmen. Besides, she's got a boyfriend. Marty Johnston."

"Marty Johnston? The football Marty Johnston?"

Scott nodded. Jeff blew out a breath. "Son, let me tell you, there are two hundred students at Kalvesta High, half of whom are girls. This Jennifer is the first girl you've noticed, so she weighs on your mind. But if you look around, you'll find a lot of girls who'll prick your interest. You don't need to get hung up on the one with the 200-pound tackle for a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I've kinda come to that conclusion myself. Marty seems like a pretty nice guy, for a junior, but he could probably pound me into the ground."

"Probably," Jeff agreed. "So, are there any other girls catching your interest?"

"Oh sure. The problem is, I don't think I catch any of their interest. I mean, how do you get a girl to like you, Dad? I mean, without becoming a total tool?"

Jeff was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll tell you what my dad told me. The way to a woman's heart is respect."

"Respect? What do you mean?"

"Son, there will always be men who are better looking, or richer, or smarter…"

Scott snorted. "Dad, in case you haven't noticed, we're the richest family in Finney County."

A frown flitted across Jeff's face. "And how many girlfriends has that gotten you?"

Scott sighed. "None."

"As I was saying, there will always be men with as much to offer a woman as you, son. What you have to be sure of is that what you have to offer is what women really want."

"What do women really want, Dad?"

"Not a clue, son. But I can tell you what they don't want. They don't want a man who considers himself better. They don't want a man who only cares about himself. They don't want a man who doesn't respect himself, or them," Jeff stated firmly. "Look, what I can tell you is if you treat people right, regardless of who they are, then girls will notice you."

"Well, then, I must not be treating people right, Dad."

Jeff shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "Oh, I don't believe that for a moment. You don't make fun of any of your classmates, do you?"

"No."

"You don't put people down for not being as smart as you, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Of course not. You don't go around being crude or obnoxious, do you?"

"I try not to."

"All right, then, you're on the right track."

"Okay," Scott sighed. "I just wish the right track had a faster train on it, is all."

Jeff laughed, bringing a smile to Scott's face. "You'll be on the Love Express soon enough, son. Just give it time."

"Okay, Dad."

A companionable silence fell between them and for a long time the only sounds were bursts of laughter from the boys watching the movie, and the slap-slap of the windshield wipers.

They were into the second hour of the drive when Jeff asked, "So, is there anything else going on? School okay? No problems with your brothers?"

Scott straightened up from the half-doze he'd been in. "School's fine. Once vacation's over, Coach Daugherty says we're going to start baseball practice."

"In January? You'll lose the school ball in the snow."

Scott chuckled. The athletic program at Kalvesta High was always on the verge of being cut by the school board, which struggled with diminishing resources and high parental expectations. In a memorable public meeting last year, Coach Evan Daugherty had stood up and declared that the board didn't have to actually cut the program, all it would take would be for the only baseball left to be damaged and the program would end on its own. With five sons, Jeff had stepped in to offer athletic grants to insure the programs remained intact.

"Coach is going to have us do conditioning work in the gym until the ground thaws."

"Good. You be sure to listen to the coach. He may be old, but he knows his stuff."

"Sure, Dad."

"Everything else okay?"

Scott realized that his father was asking for a reason. He tried to think of anything that his dad might have heard about, but he came up blank. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"What were you and your brothers talking about when I came in?"

The light dawned for Scott. Of course his dad would be curious when he found all five of his sons gathered together in a conference. "Oh, that. We were taking a vote to determine if Santa Claus was real or not."

Jeff's face fell. "The babies have doubts already?"

"No. Some friends of Johnny convinced him to look at it logically."

"Oh, Lord. I swear that boy's going to be a lawyer someday. So how did the vote go?"

Scott smiled at the tentative note in his father's voice. He didn't want the magic to end any more than Scott did. It was with a certain pride that Scott answered, "It was unanimous, Santa is real."

Jeff smiled with real relief. "Thank you, son. I can always trust you to do what's right."

"Virg helped. Plus, I think Johnny really still wants to believe."

"Yes, I don't doubt that. I can remember being a kid and being shocked when my friends said there was no Santa. I was lucky to have my dad to ease that transition from Santa, the man, to Santa, the spirit of Christmas. I'll have a talk with Johnny about it, see if I can clear it up for him."

"Good. Um, maybe you could like, take him out to dinner. Just you and him." Scott knew there was no greater treat than time alone with their Dad. It was on one of those solo outings that his Dad had told him all about the real Santa.

"You know, I haven't done that in a while, have I? Sometimes I get so caught up in work… well, anyway, that is an excellent suggestion, and I think we'll just have to arrange five separate dinners. I need more face to face time with you guys. Plus, I get five quality dinners out of it. McDonalds. Can't wait!"

Scott laughed. McDonald's was a treat that their grandmother had forbidden, citing high fat and low nutrition. There was no forbidden fruit that was sweeter than a Big Mac and fries. "That'll be great, Dad, but I'm hoping it's only four trips to McDonald's. I'd kind of like to try that new place over in Garden City, Montana Mike's."

"Why, have you heard something about it?"

"Yeah, Wyatt went there with his family, and he liked it a lot. He said they have these enormous baked potatoes with this really great cheese sauce."

"Sounds like a winner. Okay, we'll try it. But for now see if you can find that Hutchinson map. I want a good, clear shot at the fairground."

"Okay, Dad." Scott pulled out the map box from under the seat, and started looking for the map in question. Finding it, he opened it up, and with his forefinger, started tracing possible routes.

He was still frowning over his choices when a subtle rustling started in the back seats. Sure enough after a moment, the DVD player clicked and ejected the completed movie. As if on cue, Alan's high voice asked, "Daddy, are we there yet?"

There was a snort from the rear seat, and Virg spoke up, "Do you see any Christmas trees, Al?"

"But we've been driving forever," Gordon complained.

Scott rolled his eyes as his father answered, "That's why we call it a road trip. Now, I want to hear about everybody's favorite part of the movie. Alan, you start."

His dad's stratagem worked and for the next fifteen minutes there was a spirited discussion of the best parts of the movie. As the boys chatted and laughed, Scott directed their father through a series of surface streets, and before they knew it, they had arrived at the fairground.

Without all of the booths and rides of the fair, the fairgrounds were a drab affair of large industrial-sized buildings. They followed candy cane-shaped signs to the Mercantile building. Scott thought it looked pretty sad. Just a big gray building with a single string of colored lights around the double-door entrance.

Jeff caught his eye, and winked, a little smile on his face, and Scott felt instantly better. Once they had parked, Jeff issued the standard instructions: no running off, no fighting, no whining. Scott hoped the two youngest could remember over the excitement. Neither one of them was in the least deterred by the unpromising façade, and both were practically jumping out of their skin in their eagerness to get inside.

At a glance from his father, Scott grabbed tight onto Gordon's hand, as Jeff did Alan's and the family proceeded to the door. Virgil opened one door, and John the other, and the entire family was suddenly transported into a Christmas wonderland.

All along the outer walls of the huge building were trees decorated with hundreds of lights and decorations. Around the base of each tree were baskets of the ornaments displayed on each tree, packed and ready for sale. Booths were set up across from the trees, selling all manner of toys and other gifts. There was a choir somewhere out of sight, singing Christmas carols. The air was redolent with the smells of gingerbread, peppermint, and hot cocoa, and over all the smell of fresh pine. The center of the building was filled with fresh trees of all shapes and sizes.

Scott was stunned. It was very different from the lot in Dodge City where they usually got their trees. There, they had a choice of maybe ten trees. Here there had to be a hundred. Gordon had stopped tugging, and when Scott looked down at his little brother, the redhead's eyes were huge. "You okay there, Gordy?"

In a tiny voice, his brother asked, "Is this the North Pole?"

Scott had vague memories of colorful malls with bright shiny displays from when the family lived in Houston. He realized that his youngest brothers had never seen anything like this before, and he had to smile. "It might as well be, huh?"

Gordon just nodded. It took a lot to intimidate the kid, but apparently this display was enough. Scott looked over where his father was buying tickets. Alan was leaning against him, his face showing he was just as boggled as his brother. Virgil was already inspecting the first of the decorated trees. John was with him, but his eyes were on the booths.

"Boys." Jeff raised his voice over the sound of the choir, and the raised voices of the crowd already enjoying the experience. Scott led Gordon over, although his eyes were glued to the spectacle. The boys gathered around their father. "All right, now, remember, our main goal here is to get ourselves a Christmas tree."

Scott nodded, but all of his brothers' faces fell. It was Virgil who asked a bit tentatively, "But can we look around just for a little while?"

Jeff held up his hand, "As I was saying, our main goal is a Christmas tree, so we are going to do that first, because I want to make sure we have a consensus…"

"What's a consensus? I forgot." Gordon piped up.

"Let Dad finish." John said, his arms crossed.

"Thank you, John," Jeff nodded. "A consensus is an agreement. I want us all to decide. Now, once we have our tree picked out, we will take in the sights. I saw that they had this Christmas fair when I looked it up on the internet this morning, so decided then that I would give each of you boys some money to spend however you wish."

After a moment of stunned silence, the boys all broke into excited chatter. Jeff held up his hand again. "Now, I am hoping you will all spend the money wisely, but, just for today, if you want junk, feel free to buy junk. However… however, nobody gets a dime until we have found the perfect Christmas tree, so let's get cracking."

With cheers, the family headed into the forest of trees. They were arranged from the smallest up front to the tallest at the far end of the building. Gordon tugged Scott heading toward the back, while Alan stopped dead at a tree no taller than him. "Look Daddy, it's like the one on Charlie Brown!"

John rolled his eyes. "Allie, we gotta have a big tree. I was a good boy this year, and my presents will squish that tree."

Everyone laughed, and soon started a bragging contest over who had been the best boy all year. Scott joined in, saying he deserved the most presents because he put up with the rest of them. When he saw Alan's lower lip start to quiver, he swooped down and scooped his youngest brother up, saying that Allie was the exception because he was the best of the lot. Alan beamed, as his brothers loudly denied the possibility.

The laughing argument continued until they had moved far enough into the forest to be where the ten-foot trees were. Their father called a halt, saying this was the place. The boys spread out, looking over the trees, trying to find the best one.

Scott followed along behind Virgil, because he knew his younger brother had a better eye than he did. The family spent the next twenty minutes spreading out, then coming together as one or another found a tree worth calling the others to inspect. Tree after tree was rejected as not full enough, or too skimpy at the top, or shaped wrong. Finally, Virgil found one, and after going around it several times, nodded his head, saying quietly, "This is the one, Scott."

"Okay," Scott nodded, then raised his voice. "Hey, everyone, we found one."

From different directions, the family gathered, and eyed Virgil's choice critically. Jeff suddenly threw up his hands. "Well, I don't know why the rest of us even try. Virgil is obviously the Christmas Tree King. What is this, the fourth year he's found the perfect tree?"

The brothers agreed, and Virgil beamed. Smiling, Jeff plucked a card from the tree and said, "Okay, you boys guard the tree, while Alan and I go pay for it. Come on, son, let's find the cashier."

Jeff and Alan walked off and Johnny put out a hand to feel the needles on a nearby branch. "This is a pretty good tree," he said a bit grudgingly.

"Scotty, do you think they have gingerbread houses here? I always wanted a gingerbread house." Gordon's eyes were shining at the thought.

"What do you mean? There was a gingerbread house last year. Aunt Tina made it, remember?"

"Yeah, but I want one just for me."

"That's not going to happen." Virgil shook his head. "If you come home with one, Grandma will make you share."

With a frown, Gordon scratched at his head, his mitten flopping around on its string. "I could hide it, maybe."

"That's selfish." Johnny stated emphatically.

Scott sighed, but nodded his head. He understood the desire to have something that didn't have to be shared. But he also knew that sharing was the right thing to do. "I have to agree with Johnny on that one, Gordy. You sure don't want to do anything that selfish this close to Christmas. Santa watches right up to Christmas Eve, you know."

"Besides, there may be something even better to buy," Virgil said, consolingly. "Scott, how much do you think Dad is going to give us? I saw a really pretty ornament that I'd like to get Grandma."

"I have no idea. But I'll tell you what, if it's not enough, I'll go in with you. I still haven't gotten Grandma a present."

"Can I pay too?" Johnny asked hopefully. Even Gordon was looking interested. They all wanted to get their beloved grandmother something special."

"I don't know, Johnny. It only costs nine dollars. If Dad gives us ten, I won't need any help."

Scott couldn't help but feel disappointed. He didn't know what to get his grandma. Anything she really needed, his father got her, and she didn't really want much. He'd thought maybe a book, but he had no idea what book. He'd seen nice gloves at Shonegar's the last time he was in Dodge, but they were awfully expensive.

"Scotty! They're gonna use that wrapping thing!" Alan came running up, followed by his father and a big teenager wearing a Santa hat.

"What wrapping thing, Al?" Scott asked as his father pointed out their tree to the kid.

"It wraps up the Christmas tree! It's really neat!"

Scott frowned, not knowing what his brother was talking about. Gordon scrunched up his face. "What do we want a wrapped tree for? It's not a present."

Jeff laughed, "Come along boys, you'll like this."

The family trailed behind the teen carrying their tree. They came to a cleared away area with a large Rube Goldberg contraption. Scott's eyebrows went up. It was a long box-like affair with openings at either end. Brightly painted, it was covered with flashing lights and spinning discs painted to look like peppermint candies.

The teenager took the tree to one end, and placed it on a conveyor belt, then he turned and motioned for Alan to join him. "You want to start it up there, partner?"

Alan's little face broke into a huge smile as he nodded vigorously. He started forward, then won Scott's heart yet again by turning back and grabbing Gordy's hand and pulling him forward to 'help.' Together the two youngsters pulled a huge lever decorated to look like a candy cane.

With a loud steam whistle, the conveyor belt slowly started pulling the tree into the machine. Although the tree was out of sight, the Tracys could follow the tree's progress by the activity of the machine. At one point, all the wheels spun, then a spray of Christmas confetti blew out of the top. At another point, a series of candy canes bounced up and down. There were soap bubbles, and whistles, little elves popping in and out of doors, and more things that happened so quickly that Scott only caught glimpses from the corner of his eye.

Then family followed along the front of the machine, pointing out different things happening. Scott smiled and laughed along with the rest of the family. He could see that it wasn't really all that complicated, just a series of pistons and spinning dials all highlighted with bright blinking lights. His youngest brothers just saw the magic. The whole process took maybe five minutes, and at the end, the tree came out the other end, compressed and wrapped in cotton candy pink plastic.

To the cheers of the family, workers dressed as elves tagged the tree and set it with a stack of others. One elf came over and gave a pick up tag to their father. The man was older, but very short. Gordon and Alan were staring at him, awe on their faces. Noticing, the man winked before returning to his job.

"Daddy, did you see his shoes? Only really for true elves wear shoes like that." Alan was enthralled.

"I think you may just be right, there, son." Jeff smiled. "Well, let's go see what else they have here."

When Virgil would have headed back toward the front, Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder, and steered him and the rest of the boys through the largest trees at the back of the lot. Scott followed along content to let his dad show the way.

Finally they made it through the last of the trees, and the boys all gasped. They had come out at the back of two corrals, each with four live reindeer. Visible beyond the corrals was a stage dominated by a large red and gold throne. On the throne was Santa Claus, speaking to a little girl perched on his lap.

"Santa." Scott heard one of the little ones whisper in awe, although he couldn't tell which one.

"Daddy, it's the really true Santa Claus." Gordon said, a quaver in his voice.

Both of the little ones were frozen on the spot. John, however, had gotten up close to the corrals. Shaking his head, he said, "Look how little they are."

"There's more to strength than size, son. Remember that ant farm you had last year? Those ants were tiny, but they could lift ten times their own weight."

John mulled that over, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, what do you say, boys? Anybody want to go tell Santa what they want for Christmas?"

"Me! Me, Daddy!" Gordon was jumping up and down, but Scott noticed that Alan was wringing his hands.

"What's the matter, Allie? Don't you want to see Santa?"

"What if… what if he thinks I've been bad? What if he doesn't remember me?"

"Santa? Have a little faith, son. Santa remembers all of the good boys and girls," Jeff said sagely, to Scott's surprise. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you all go get in line. I think your grandma would like a picture of you all with Santa."

Scott and Virgil rolled their eyes, but obediently led their brothers over to the line. To Scott's amusement, both Gordon and Alan were very quiet as they made their way to Santa Claus. The wait went quickly, and suddenly they were at the front of the line.

When a pretty girl dressed as an elf beckoned Alan forward, the five-year-old suddenly balked. Before Scott could say anything, Santa peered over, and adjusting his glasses, exclaimed, "Why, is that Alan Tracy? Alan, come over here and see me!"

Scott blinked in surprise. He felt sure all of his brothers were just as stunned. After a split second, with a cry of pure joy, Alan ran to hug Santa Claus. With a laugh, the jolly old elf returned the hug, then pulled Alan onto his lap for a private tete-a-tete.

Scott couldn't stop grinning as his brother sat talking to Santa. After a few moments, Santa nodded, and set Alan back down. With a gesture, Santa sent Alan back to his brothers and beckoned Gordon over. With more trepidation that Scott had ever seen the redhead display, Gordon went over and chatted with Santa. It took a few moments, but suddenly the six-year-old also threw open his arms in a hug.

Gordon's eyes shone as he came back to his brothers. Santa looked over, and said sternly, "John, if I might have a word with you?"

Johnny was so pale that Scott feared he might pass out. The nine-year-old moved with trepidation over to the throne. Santa took the boy's hand and had a longer talk with him than with either of the younger boys, but by the end, John was smiling and nodding.

Santa then waved all of the boys over, and they gathered around, Alan and Gordon perched on Santa's knees, John at his shoulder, and the two older boys crouched in front. It was over with a flash of the camera. As Scott started shepherding the boys away, Santa called him and Virgil by name.

Surprised, the two oldest boys stood before Santa, who stood to meet them eye-to-eye. "Boys, I want to thank you both for keeping my light alive in the world."

Santa shook each of their hands, and it was all Scott could do to remember to say 'you're welcome.' Up close, Scott could see that Santa's beard was real, as was the twinkle in his light blue eyes. As Virgil and he walked away, Virgil said, "Okay, for my money, that was the really true Santa Claus."

Smiling, Scott nodded in agreement. They made their way over to where their brothers were regaling their father with their experiences. As Scott and Virgil came up, Jeff said, "I don't know about you boys, but I need a good stiff hot chocolate after all of this excitement."

With all in agreement, Jeff led the way to a corner where tables had been set up, and refreshments were available. Handing his eldest a couple of bills, Jeff said, "Scott, if you and John would do the honors, please."

"Okay."

As he and John walked away, Jeff called out, "Oh, and I think maybe some gingerbread is called for."

"Okay, Dad."

Scott made his way to the line, John right behind. Scott turned to his brother, and asked curiously, "So what did you and Santa talk about?"

"Oh, he was just explaining to me about magic, and how all magic really is, is how doing good makes you feel, and how if you do good, that spirit flies out in the world and multiplies."

"So, then is he Santa, or not?"

Johnny shook his head. "He said he wasn't. He was just a guy who wanted to multiply the good in the world. But you know, Scott, I kinda think he really is Santa. What do you think?"

"I think that Santa is a spirit of good rather than a person, but that guy has more of that spirit than anybody else I've seen, so yeah, if someone showed me his birth certificate and said he really is Santa, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Yeah." John said quietly, obviously having been given a lot to think over.

When they reached the front of the line, they found to their dismay that there were several different flavors of hot chocolate. They decided together that their best bet was double Dutch chocolate, and they got six cups along with six squares of gingerbread with hot caramel sauce.

Scott carried the tray of drinks while John carried the cake. They found their family at a small table in a corner. Scott looked around and realized they were lucky to get a seat at all. The fair was getting more crowded as the day went on.

They ate their treat and drank their chocolate, and all agreed that it was very good, though privately Scott thought the gingerbread was bland. Jeff pulled out his wallet and said, "All right, now, boys. Like I said, you can buy whatever you want, but that doesn't mean I want you running amok. We're going to stick together. See that man in the blue hat over there? That man is about twenty feet away. That's as far away from me as I want any of you to get. That means you can go to different booths, but if you see me move on, that means you move on too. Virgil, I'm talking to you. Don't get hung up on any one single tree, and keep an eye on me. If I move forward, you move too."

All of the boys nodded, Jeff continued as he handed money to each of his sons. "Now, that doesn't mean you can't ask me to stop if you find something especially interesting. If I'm moving too fast, you just let me know."

Scott's eyebrows were up to his hairline. His father had handed him a fifty-dollar bill. It was far more than he expected. Looking around he saw that his brothers were equally stunned. Virg held two twenties, and John had three tens. Even Gordon and Alan had twenty dollars each.

Scott gave his dad a look, but Jeff just wiggled his eyebrows. "Ready, boys?"

With 'yes' resounding in their ears, the boys all got up and the family headed out to the long row of tantalizing booths. Scott automatically followed behind Alan and Gordon who made a beeline for a booth featuring shiny bright toys.

The two youngsters went from one end of the booth to the other, inspecting each item, but rejecting them all. Scott was surprised and asked, "What's wrong? Aren't there any toys that you like?"

"Yeah, I like that big shark thing, but Scotty, what if I get it and there's something better later on?" Gordon looked to his big brother with solemn eyes.

Scott nodded. "I know what you mean. I'll tell you what, you keep that shark in mind, and if after we've gone the whole way around you don't find anything better, then we'll come back here and get it."

Gordon stared at his shark, and Scott noticed Alan likewise staring at a bright blue car. After a moment, the two boys nodded their heads and moved on, whispering to each other. The next few booths held clothing and power tools, nothing to hold the interest of small boys.

Scott kept an eye on his dad, and moved the kids along as his father strolled slowly up the aisle. Johnny was out of sight at the moment, and Virgil was trailing behind, still inspecting the decorated Christmas trees. Scott's nose tweaked as they came to a booth decked out as Santa's bakery. Alan didn't seem particularly interested, but Gordy walked right in.

Scott followed, only to pull up short to keep from knocking his brother down. Gordon had stopped dead at the sight of a series of Gingerbread houses lining the shelves of the booth. Scott was amazed at the size and variety of the houses for sale. There was everything from a tiny house no bigger than a single cookie to a fantastically decorated mansion.

"Oh my gosh, it's the Gingerbread House Emporium of the Midwest." Scott looked over at his father who had followed the boys in. Scott could only nod.

Gordon had plastered himself to a glass case that featured do-it-yourself kits with a selection of baked gingerbread cookie walls and the buyer's choice of candies to decorate with. Alan was more diffident, looking in a different case at a series of large decorated gingerbread boys.

Scott said in an aside to his dad, "Well, I guess Gordy's found his gingerbread house."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, while we were in the forest he was asking if I thought there would be gingerbread houses. I guess he really likes them."

"You know, he comes by it honestly, don't you? When I was a kid, we had a gingerbread house every Christmas. Your grandfather insisted on it. He just thought they were the best. I'd forgotten that until last year when your Aunt Tina brought that one over."

"Here you guys are!" Scott looked over his shoulder to see Johnny standing there looking relieved. "I came to get you and I couldn't find anybody. I thought you left without me."

"That would never happen, son." Jeff said calmly.

Nodding his head, John continued, "Okay. Well, come on, you guys. I found the best present for Grandma, but we all gotta get it or it won't be any good."

Gordon looked over. "But I wanna get a gingerbread house."

"Yeah? Maybe I'll just go back and tell Santa how selfish you are."

"Hey, John, none of that. I gave your brother money to spend how he wants to, not how you want him to," Jeff said sternly.

Johnny hung his head, instantly deflated. Virgil had come up in time to hear the problem, and said, "Well, it won't hurt to at least look at what Johnny found, Gordy. If you look at it and then decide the gingerbread house is better, you can come back and get it."

Gordon looked back at the case with yearning in his eyes, but eventually nodded, and the four boys followed their blond brother out into the aisle. Johnny led the way two booths up to a jewelry display. A large sign proclaimed birthstone jewelry and prominently featured a bracelet set with gems of different colors.

"See? We each buy a link for the bracelet with our birthstones. Then Grandma will always remember us."

Scott replied wryly, "It's not like she'd ever be likely to forget us."

Despite his remark, Scott moved up closer. There was no doubt it was pretty. Each link featured a birthstone set in gold. Scott nodded, deciding he liked the idea. His eyes found his own birthstone, a pretty green stone called alexandrite. He frowned, his memory saying it should be a pearl, but he decided he liked this one better anyway.

His brothers were all crowded up against the display, pointing out their own gemstones. All except Gordon, who stood back slowly shaking his head. Only Scott noticed, as John, Virgil and Alan all agreed that this would be the best present ever.

"Gordy? You still want the gingerbread house?"

Upset, the six-year-old nodded. Virgil said coolly, "That's okay. We'll just get the bracelet without your birthstone. Grandma won't hardly notice."

Gordon looked as if he'd burst into tears. Alan went over to him. "It's okay, Gordy. It only costs 15.00 for each of us. You can have my leftover five dollars and get a gingerbread house."

Scott smiled. "You know, that's a pretty good idea there, Alan. I know that Gordy was going to share that gingerbread house with all of us. I think it's only fair that we each kick in five dollars for it."

Virgil nodded, "That sounds fair to me."

Everybody turned to look at John, but to Scott's surprise, the nine-year-old was smiling and nodding. "I think so too. I really liked that one Aunt Tina made us last year."

Relieved, Gordon readily agreed to the bracelet, and the five boys pooled their money. With the help of the man selling the bracelets, they made their order. When told it would take ten minutes to build the bracelet, they paid the man then trooped back to the bakery booth.

To their surprise, they met their father coming out of the booth carrying a large bag. Jeff had been overcome with memories of building gingerbread houses with his father, and had bought all the fixings to make a good-sized house and cover it with candy. Peering into the bag proved too much for little Gordy and he threw himself at his father, hugging him fiercely.

Scott couldn't help but think it was turning out to be a pretty good Christmas. After a few moments, Virgil drifted off toward the decorated trees again, and Johnny started looking around for something else to buy. Scott told his Dad that he had to wait for a gift they had ordered for their grandma, and he would catch up with them.

Jeff agreed, and started walking up the aisle, Gordon and Alan in tow. Scott watched them go, then turned and hurried back to the first toy booth that had interested his brothers. The tin wind-up shark, and blue car each cost more than either Gordon or Alan had left, and Scott figured they'd be just the right size to tuck into the Christmas stockings.

At the toy booth, he found a crowd of kids, and had to wait to make his purchases. As he waited, he looked back at Santa on his throne, and saw something that explained a lot to him. There was a sign that hadn't been visible from the line waiting to see Santa that offered the parents a chance to speak into a microphone that transmitted to an earbud in Santa's ear.

Scott smiled. It explained Santa's knowledge, but did not in anyway diminish the magic of the encounter. For Scott, that magic was the look on the faces of his little brothers when they got to talk to the 'really true Santa Claus.'

Within a few minutes, he got his toys, and trotted back up the aisle and picked up the bracelet. He looked up the aisle, and frowned. The fair was now quite crowded, and as tall as his father was, Scott could not see him over the heads of all the people strolling to and fro.

Not really concerned, he headed to the decorated Christmas tree side of the aisle, and started walking. As he expected, within a few moments, he found his brother, Virgil, still engrossed in the decorations. As he came up, Virgil glanced at him then held up two ornaments. One was a tiny wooden Santa playing a tiny wooded piano, and the other was a shiny antique mail plane. "Which one, Scott? I can't decide."

Scott looked at the dangling price tags and shrugged. "Why don't you just get them both? You've got enough money, don't you?"

Virgil shook his head. "No, I still want to get the one I saw for Grandma when we first came in. I don't have enough for all three."

"Tell you what. I'll buy the airplane one, then you'll have enough for the other two, right?"

Virgil's eyes lit up, "You're the best, you know that?"

Scott snorted, "Like there was any doubt. Give me that one. Okay, where's Dad?"

Virgil handed over the ornament then looked around. "Uh, over there, by that big pink thing."

Scott spotted his father, then looked around. "I see him. So, where do we pay for these things?"

"Up by the front door. Here, give it back and give me the money, and I'll pay for it with mine."

"Good deal." Scott pulled out his wallet, and handed his brother a ten-dollar bill. "I'm going to go watch the rugrats so Dad can shop."

"All right. I just want to look around a bit more."

Scott nodded as he crossed the aisle to where his father was waiting patiently as his three youngest decided on what flavors of popcorn they wanted to fill the decorative tin they had picked out. As he walked up, Jeff looked up, "Ah, Scott, just in time. Listen, the boys have just about exhausted their funds. I'm going to go get the van and get the tree loaded up. Here's twenty dollars. Take the little ones over there to that puppet show. It starts in about five minutes."

Jeff looked around. "I figure with this crowd, it'll take half an hour to get the tree, so if you'll stay with the little ones at the puppet show, it should last just long enough. Virgil can look at his trees, and Johnny can stick with him, or go to the puppet show whichever he wants, but I want you all at the front door by four o'clock, all right?"

Long used to his father's instructions, Scott nodded. "Okay, Dad. Um, can you take this bag out to the car for me?"

Jeff took the bag, and started away, saying over his shoulder, "Four o'clock, Scott."

"Dad! Can I come with you?" Johnny called, hurrying over to his father.

Jeff paused, "Are you sure, son? Don't you want to look around some more?"

"No," Johnny shook his head. "Besides, I can help."

"All right, then, why don't we take that popcorn bucket with us? It looks a little heavy for your brothers."

Both youngsters vehemently denied the possibility, but Scott was able to distract them, saying the show was about to start. While the little ones ran to get in line, Scott whistled to attract Virgil's attention, and gave his brother the lowdown on what was happening. Then he joined Gordon and Alan at the kiddy show, which turned out to be a pretty funny show featuring puppets and a magician.

The three brothers had a good time, and were out of the theater with ten minutes to spare. As they came out, Virgil was waiting for them, and suggested that they visit the bathrooms before going to meet their dad. Scott appreciated his brother's thoughtfulness, and the two of them herded their younger brothers ahead of them.

They finished up and got to the front door just as the family van pulled up. Scott immediately sent John off to have a pit stop and then helped his father get his youngest brothers strapped into their safety seats. Despite the second movie, a couple of squabbles broke out over popcorn and water bottles, showing how tiring the day had been for the boys. Scott broke up the incipient fights with reminders of the visit to Santa Claus and the warning that they were being watched. After a stop for dinner at their favorite steakhouse, the family arrived home. The youngsters were exhausted, but over-excited by the day, and none of them wanted to go to bed. It was only the promise that their beloved grandmother was returning in the morning from her annual vacation with friends at the resort town of Branson, Missouri that got the children to settle down and get in bed.

Scott sat for a while at his computer, just playing a game to relax. It had been a great start to his Christmas vacation, and he couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

TB TB TB TB

Four days later, it was late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and Scott was once again at his computer. He was feeling a bit numb, and had been staring at the same page of his composition for over an hour.

The last few days had been like being caught in a peppermint scented whirlwind. As promised, his grandma had returned on Sunday morning, and in the afternoon they had 'freed' their Christmas tree from its cotton candy cocoon, and spent several hours making paper chains and popcorn strings and decorating the tree, the living room and each other.

After his brothers had all gone to bed that night, Scott had stayed up and helped his dad and grandmother build the gingerbread house. It was a more difficult task than Scott had expected. His job was mainly to hold pieces of the house together while the glue-like icing dried.

The next day, the family gathered to decorate the house, and Scott's grandma had proclaimed that she wasn't going to let all that creativity go to waste, and so baked a whole battalion of gingerbread boys and sugar cookies and commanded the boys to decorate them all.

As the boys finished the first batches of cookies, their grandmother came and filled paper plates with the best ones to be wrapped and taken to the church for the charity baskets. As he watched her, Johnny got a sly look on his face, and suddenly made a mistake on the cookie he was decorating. When their grandma passed over that cookie as unacceptable, Virgil suddenly started making mistakes. It took the younger boys a few minutes to catch on, but eventually their eyes widened as they realized mistakes meant more cookies for them.

Unfortunately, neither Gordon nor Alan were crafty enough to be quiet about it, each exclaiming 'oops' loudly, then giggling madly when they made their 'mistakes.' It didn't take long for their grandma to figure out what was happening, and she quickly put a stop to it by threatening to throw out all the badly decorated cookies.

Despite his grandma's ire, Scott had enjoyed himself with the decorating, and agreed with his brothers that the gingerbread house had turned out amazing, mainly because practically none of the gingerbread was visible through the layers of candy that the boys had stuck on.

Scott had spent Monday night at his friend Wyatt's house, playing video games and enjoying the peace and quiet that an only child like Wyatt enjoyed all the time. They had stayed up half the night battling to save the universe, and Tuesday morning, Scott had trudged home, tired and out of sorts.

When he arrived, his grandmother ordered him into the car, reminding him that he had promised to help at the church. Scott had grudgingly gotten into the car with his brothers. With their grandmother, they drove to the church where the three youngest went off to practice for the Christmas Eve Pageant. Alan and Gordon were shepherds, but John had a 'starring' role as the narrator. Virgil went off with the youth choir to play the piano for caroling at the senior center. Scott followed his grandma to the church hall, where a mountain of donated toys and clothing waited to be wrapped.

After his first attempt resulted in a package that was more tape than wrapping paper, Scott was sent to the other end of the hall to help pack the holiday food baskets. The church ladies cooed over his youth and muscles, and he was promptly set at one end of the line to lift the heavy hams and turkeys into the large baskets.

Next to him on the assembly line stood Annie Sorensen, a girl he had gone to school with since the first grade, but had never really spoken to. As the day wore on, he and Annie warmed to each other, and Scott found himself telling her all sorts of things about himself and his family.

By the time Scott had lifted the last ham into the last basket, he and Annie had become fast friends, and on an impulse, he asked her if she'd like to go to the church's New Year's Eve party. To his delight, she said yes, and stood on tiptoes to give him his first kiss.

With all of the baskets done, both he and Annie went back to the wrapping station, where his handwriting was deemed sufficient to fill out the gift tags. Because his Aunt Tina, who was in nominal charge of the wrapping, said she couldn't trust him with the tape, he filled out the tags, and Annie taped them to the appropriate gifts.

Other volunteers worked at loading the truck on loan from Kopecki Fine Furniture, and everything was done far too quickly for Scott's taste. He would have liked to spend more time with Annie, but the youth choir had returned and pageant practice was over. His grandma was ready to go, and Annie's dad had honked for her to hurry it up.

As they were saying goodbye, Reverend Hicks had come up and said that as they were both high school students, they were old enough to help deliver the Christmas gifts and food baskets. When he asked them if either was interested, Scott would have said no, but when Annie jumped at the chance, he did too, wanting to spend more time in her company. With a satisfied nod, Rev. Hicks told them both to be at the church at nine, and don't be late.

With another soft kiss, Annie said she couldn't wait to see him tomorrow, and he agreed. She ran to her dad's car, then turned and waved, causing little thrills to run up and down Scott's spine. When he got into the family van, he discovered, to his dismay, that his brothers had all seen the kiss, and he was unmercifully teased the whole way home.

Telling his grandma that he'd promised to help with the charity deliveries, he went to bed early to get a good rest. But the memory of Annie's lips on his kept him awake long into the night, and when he did sleep, it was with dreams of girls and kissing.

That was last night. This morning he had gotten up early expecting to have to ride his bike into town, but his father surprised him, saying he'd drop him off. Scott was grateful, not really looking forward to the long, cold bike ride.

Even better, when they went out to the car, Jeff had handed his son the keys, and told him he could drive to the end of the driveway, and if the coast was clear, out onto the road to town. Because of the training his father had already given him, Scott took to driving like a duck to water, impressing even his dad with his care and ability. When they reached the outskirts of town, he pulled over, and his dad had taken the wheel, full of praise for Scott's ability.

Scott reached the church feeling on top of the world. That was this morning, but the day hadn't gone exactly as planned, and now as he sat at his computer, he felt depressed and sad, and even more, he felt guilty.

"Hey, son, how did the deliveries go?"

Scott looked up, a hard lump in his throat. He wasn't going to cry. He hadn't cried since his mom had died, but he found he couldn't get any words past that rock hard lump. His dad took one look at his face, and stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.

Sitting down on Scott's bed, Jeff patted the mattress beside him and said quietly, "Come over and sit down here, Scott."

Reluctant because he didn't really want to talk about it, Scott obeyed his father's command. Jeff put his arm over Scott's shoulder and said, "The first time is always the hardest."

Scott couldn't look his dad in the eye. He had already decided that there wasn't going to be any second time. For a while, he sat there with his dad. It was obvious that Jeff wanted Scott to say something, but Scott couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't damn him in his father's eyes.

Eventually, without ever looking up, Scott started to talk. "At first it was okay. In fact, it was good. Great. We went to this family that had these three little kids, and when we opened up the truck and gave them their presents, the kids were like Al and Gordy on Christmas morning, you know? All full of joy and happiness. The second and the third houses were just like the first and we were all feeling, you know, like Santa Claus."

Scott ran his hand through his hair. "But then at the next house, there weren't any kids, and the mom said she'd sent them to stay with a neighbor so she could hide the presents because they were the only presents her kids were going to get, and she wanted it to seem like Santa Claus had brought them. And I looked at the presents, and there were only like, three things for each kid, and one of them was a jacket, and another was some socks, so those kids were only getting like, one toy. I felt so bad, I wanted to go to the truck and get more things, but if I did that, some other kid wouldn't get anything.

"Then there were a couple more houses that were okay, but then there was this lady who burst out crying when we gave her the food basket because she couldn't pay her bills, and her power had been cut off and she had no way to cook the food." Scott felt the lump grow harder as he spoke, but having started, it was like he couldn't stop. "And they weren't the only ones without power. There were four other houses, and like, every one of them had a bunch of kids running around in clothes that wouldn't keep a dog warm."

"Then there was this lady whose house smelled like a cat box. She was all dirty with bad teeth, and when we gave her her basket, she tried to hug one of the girls, Cathy Hands, but Cathy didn't want to let her touch her, and the lady just kind of nodded like she expected to be treated like that. But then Annie walked right up and hugged her, and so did I, and the lady started to cry she was so grateful, but I still felt bad for her."

"But there were some people that I didn't feel bad for at all. There was this one guy who got all mad, and said he didn't want people's leftovers and hand-me-downs. He made me so angry because I could see his wife behind him, and she was crying and I could tell they really needed the food. And there was this old guy who was totally drunk and it wasn't even lunch time. And there were a couple of houses that were really dirty and so were the kids."

Scott shook his head. "But I think the worst one was when we went to this one house, and the door opened, and it was Jenner Magnusson, a kid who's been in my class since the first grade. I never even knew he was poor. When he first opened the door, he was all smiles, but when he saw it was me, he was totally embarrassed and so was I."

Scott fell silent, he didn't know what else to say. He didn't want his father to think badly of him, but he didn't want to ever deliver gifts to the poor again. He knew that he had to be a bad person to feel that way, but he just couldn't face all of that misery.

After a minute or two, his father squeezed his shoulder. "You know, son, charity in the abstract is the easiest thing in the world. You drop some change in the Salvation Army bucket, or a dollar in the collection plate at church. You decorate some cookies and you feel all good about yourself. But you need to understand that poverty isn't a pretty thing. Your little friend who didn't want to be touched probably expected all of the deliveries to be like the first. Families that would make her feel good about herself. But the reality is, it isn't like the movies and the books where you can tell a person is down on their luck because there's an artistic little patch sewn on their pants."

Jeff sighed. "What I want you to take from this experience is an understanding that not everyone has money, not everyone is tidy or sober. But everyone, and I do mean everyone, deserves to be treated with respect. Everyone was someone's baby at one time or another. Everyone has feelings."

Scott swallowed hard against the lump, but said nothing. After a few moments, Jeff continued. "Let me tell you about the year your brother Virgil was born… It started out as a pretty good year, we'd just found out that we were going to have another baby. Your mother and I were ecstatic. I mean, who wouldn't be when the first one had turned out so well." Jeff nudged his son, and Scott couldn't help the tiny smile that formed despite his misery.

"I was still only a lieutenant at the time, and so money was always tight, but there was enough for everything we thought we needed. But then things started to go wrong. First the refrigerator conked out. Well, I didn't worry too much about that, I'd saved enough to buy a new one. It wasn't particularly large, and it didn't have any bells or whistles like automatic ice makers or water in the door, but for our needs, it was just fine, and I was very proud of the fact that I could provide it for my family."

Jeff shook his head, then said, "But then, the water heater exploded, and I had to replace that. Then the transmission in the car seized up, and the car caught on fire and was destroyed. And then the gal that your mother loaned your crib and baby furniture to took off with it. We never did find out where. It was like the trials of Job. Only, I'm no Job. By the time December rolled around, I discovered I didn't have two dimes to rub together.

"Son, I'll tell you, there is no worse feeling in the world than to look at your family and feel like you can't provide for them. Your brother slept for the first four months of his life in a laundry basket. I felt like I had failed. And it made me angry. Angry with myself, angry with the world.

"Your mother, of course, was wonderful. She didn't let the situation effect her personality. She was supportive, and consoling, and positive that things would turn out. I just couldn't see past the present, and I made myself and people around me miserable."

Jeff paused in the memory of the time. With a sigh he went on, "What really made it worse was that Christmas was coming and I had absolutely no money to get gifts with, let alone a tree or gingerbread house. I refused to tell anyone about our problems. Stubborn pride, pure and simple.

"Then one day, I came home from work, and there in the middle of the living room was a Christmas tree. It wasn't much of a tree, only about four or five feet tall, but it smelled wonderful, and made the room feel like Christmas. Your mom was decorating it with popcorn strings and photographs of you and your brother, and she had you making Christmas ornaments. You had finger paints and little paper plates, and you were having a ball.

"But I looked at that tree, and my heart just sank. Even small trees were more expensive than we could afford. I asked her how she had gotten it, and she told me she had signed up at the PX for a free one. Well, I was just furious. That sign-up was for poor people. I didn't want the world to know what a failure I was. I was sure that everyone would point and say 'that's the man who can't take care of his family.' I told your mother that I was going to take it back. I thought I could tell them it was all a mistake, that your mom hadn't understood the free trees were for charity.

"Your mom wouldn't have it, though. Lucy rarely got angry, but by god, she got angry then. She told me there was no shame in having tough times, but it was a sin to be so prideful that the family suffers for it. She told me that I was to be grateful for every act of kindness that I was shown. And I was not to embarrass her by acting like a spoiled child when things didn't go my way."

Jeff smiled wistfully. "Your mom had a wicked way with words when she wanted to, son. And after I calmed down enough to understand what she was telling me, I loved her for it. I still had that stubborn pride, of course. When we received a huge box from your grandma and grandpa with beautiful packages for under the tree, I looked at the puny few things we'd gotten you from the 99 cent store and I just wanted to cry. And when I got home from work on Christmas Eve, and found your mother with a charity basket, just like the ones you delivered today, I was hard put to be gracious about it."

Jeff paused again. Scott tried to imagine a time when he dad hadn't been in control and he just couldn't. His dad could handle anything as far as the teenager was concerned. Jeff caught his son's eye. "But let me tell you something. On Christmas Day, you were all wide-eyed and excited. You were three, and it was really the first year you had any true inkling of what Christmas was about. You had a field day ripping into packages. You didn't really care so much what was in them, you just liked to shred that paper. You opened all of your gifts, then all of Virgil's and your were sorely disappointed when there weren't any more to open. Your grandpa got you a beautiful electric train. Your grandma sent you a tricycle. But you know what it was that you carried around all day long? It was a cheap little plastic dog that your mom picked up at the 99 cent store. We could have wrapped empty boxes and given you nothing but that damn dog, and you would have had the best Christmas in the world."

Scott smiled, he had a very vague memory of that dog. It was just the right size to fit in his hand. It was black, and one of the legs was bent, so it wouldn't stand up on its own.

"Now, I've bored you with that story to help you understand. The kids who were only getting the three gifts? If they have their mother's love, and it is obvious that they do, one toy means more than the forty toys that Gordon and Alan will get. And the man who refused the charity basket? Well, I can understand exactly where he's coming from. To give charity is easy. To accept it is not. The guy who was drunk, well, you don't know his story, and you can't judge him until you do. And I cannot tell you how proud I am of you, that you would give a simple gift of compassion to a woman you'd never met before, even though she smelled like a cat box."

To his surprise, the lump in Scott's throat had disappeared. When he thought of what his dad had said about having the bad year, and needing the charity of others, he started to think of the people he'd seen today in a different light. They were all just people having a bad year. They weren't bad people. They weren't some alien species called 'poor people,' unrelated to him. They were just people. Finally he nodded, able to smile without pain in his throat. But then he had a thought. "Dad, what about those families that had their power turned off? It's so cold out, they could die or something."

"You make that sound like John Hicks didn't call me as soon as he dropped you kids off. You make that sound like I didn't call the power company and get all of those homes re-instated." Jeff said with a mock frown.

Scott sighed as the little last tightness in his body eased. Swallowing, he smiled, his eyes shining. "Thanks for telling me, Dad. I feel a lot better."

"Well, that's good, because tonight after all of your brothers are in bed, I'm going to need your help. It seems Santa has gotten your brother a baby grand piano, but he expects me to move it into the house all on my own."

Scott's smile became huge. "Oh, Dad, he'll go wild! That's the best!"

"Yeah, well, he's been playing the piano since he was four. And he plays it as well as any grown up. I've finally decided it's not a passing phase, so he should have something a bit better than that ratty old upright."

Scott shook his head. "This has been the most amazing Christmas. I can't wait to see Virg's face when he sees that piano!"

"You and me both, son. So, then I can count on your help?"

"Absolutely!"

"All right then. Why don't you work on that homework. Dinner's in a couple of hours, and I do believe we'll have some egg nog afterwards."

"Okay, Dad!" Scott went back to his desk as his father left the room. With his mind at ease, he was able to concentrate on his paper.

He had the first page of his composition written when he heard a soft tap. Puzzled, he looked up. It hadn't come from behind him where the door was. He paused, and after a moment, he heard it again. It seemed to be coming from his bedroom window.

Frowning, he opened his blinds, and his heart stopped. There, outside his window on the second floor of the house, his little brother Gordon was dangling from the rain gutter. Before Scott could move, Gordon moved a bit further along the gutter, and something hanging from a string around his waist swung and tapped against the window.

Scared to death that he'd startle the six-year-old, Scott slowly slid up the window. In what he hoped was a conversational tone, he asked, "Gordy, what are you doing?"

Gordon glanced down at Scott and inched further along the gutter. "I'm getting up on the roof."

Scott leaned out the window, reached up and grabbed his brother firmly around the waist. "No, you're not. Let go and come in here."

"No, Scotty, I wanna get on the roof. Let go of me."

"Not going to happen. Now, get in here before I yell for Dad."

Huffing in indignation, the six-year-old finally complied, letting go of the gutter, and grabbing hold of his big brother. Relieved, and not a little angry, Scott pulled Gordon in. Putting his brother down, he turned to close the window. Before he had the window latched, he heard his door open. Glancing around, he saw Gordon trying to make his escape.

"Get back here, Squirt."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. And because if you don't, I'll tell Dad what you were doing."

In a sulk, Gordon crossed his arms and stomped back into the room. Scott reached down and took the small metal animal trap tied around the six-year-old's waist. "What's this?"

"It's a bear trap. Anybody knows that."

Scott cocked an eyebrow. It was nowhere near large enough to trap a bear. It was probably intended for fox, or maybe raccoon. "Where did you get it?"

"Jimmy Caudill."

Scott pursed his lips in ire. Jimmy Caudill was a boy in Gordon's class whose single mother worked two jobs. Jimmy was what was called a latchkey kid, and it seemed anytime he and Gordy got together, Gordy got into some trouble or other. "What do you need a bear trap for?"

"I'm gonna catch a reindeer."

"What???"

"I'm gonna catch one of Santa's reindeer on the roof, and show it to Johnny. I'm gonna prove that Santa Claus is real."

"Gordon, didn't we already vote on that? The vote was unanimous, Santa Claus is real."

"Yeah, but I wanna prove it. I wanna catch a reindeer."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Okay, first off, what makes you think Santa would let his reindeer step in a trap?"

"He won't know it's there. I'm gonna cover it up with snow."

"No, Santa will know it's there. He watches when your sleeping, he knows when you're awake, remember? If you put that trap up there, he'll know, and what's most likely to happen is, he'll just not come to our house. Do you want that to happen?"

Gordon thought for a moment then said, "Santa always comes if you're a good boy. Even if Santa puts me on the naughty list, the rest of you guys are still pretty good, mostly, so he'd have to come to leave you presents."

"And so you'd break the leg on one of Santa's reindeer just to prove something you already know is true?"

"It's just a little bear trap. It won't hurt the reindeer, it'll just catch it."

"So then what happens? Don't you think Santa needs all eight of his reindeer to pull the sleigh?"

Gordon smiled smugly, "By the time he gets to our house, he's already given a lot of the presents out. So he doesn't need all eight."

Scott fought to hide his smile. His little brother had a very quirky, very devious mind, and Scott couldn't help but appreciate how the kid figured things out. "Johnny. You're just like Johnny."

Gordon lost some of his cockiness and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The reason Johnny had his doubts was because he wanted Santa to be like everyone else. But Santa isn't like everyone else, he's magical, and so are his reindeer. He doesn't have eight of them because it takes eight to pull the sleigh. He has eight because their antlers are magic, and it's the magic that lifts the sleigh. You take away a reindeer, and there isn't enough magic, and the sleigh won't fly."

"Well, I'd give it back once Johnny saw it."

Realizing that his brother was determined, Scott shook his head. "No, because you aren't going to catch a reindeer, because I am taking this trap, and if you give me any guff about it, I'll give the trap to grandma and tell her all about it."

"But Scotty…"

"No buts, Gordon. I'm doing this for your own good. I wouldn't want to be opening a bunch of great gifts while all you got was coal."

Scott had used his 'I mean business' tone, and Gordon realized he was not going to change his big brother's mind. "Tsk. You never let me have any fun."

Scott suddenly pounced, swinging his brother up in the air, and tossing him on the bed. He jumped on the bed and started tickling the youngster unmercifully. Gordon squealed with delight, trying to tickle his brother back. After a few minutes, they both collapsed on the bed, laughing uncontrollably.

Catching his breath, Scott said, "Yeah, you're right. I never let you have fun."

"Well, maybe sometimes."

"Okay. Listen, I still have to finish my homework. Why don't you go find Alan, and see if he'll let you have any fun."

"Okay, Scotty. Um, can I have my bear trap back if I promise not to catch a reindeer with it?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

With a disappointed sigh, the youngster left the room, closing the door behind him. Scott looked at the 'bear trap' and shook his head. As time went on, he became more and more convinced that Gordon would never make it past his eighth birthday.

For a miracle, Scott was able to work for the next two hours without interruption, and he finished off his composition. He'd re-read it at least once more after Christmas, just to make sure it was okay, but he was just glad to have it out of the way.

He could hear his brothers playing out in the snow in the front yard. The aroma of his grandmother's cooking wafted throughout the house, promising a great dinner. Scott thought about everything his dad had told him. He thought about his school friend, Jenner, and about Annie. He smiled as he imagined the look on Virgil's face in the morning when he saw the piano. And when Gordy and Al found their toys in their stockings. He thought about his mom, as he always did on Christmas Eve. He hoped she was in Heaven, looking down on how good his family's life had become. It was the best Christmas yet, and Scott was content.


End file.
